Out of Our Control
by Rusty Fingers
Summary: A serial killer on the hunt in Miami interrupts Grissom's visit, causing him to question the workability of his long-distance relationship with Horatio. Other events put both men's lives in danger and leave Horatio struggling to protect his family. Slash
1. Chapter 1

There was no missing the anxiety in Grissom's eyes as he stared up at the television in the break room, watching the 11 o'clock news. Swirling masses of white floated close to the South-East corner of the US, close to the protrusion of land that protected the Gulf of Mexico from the ravages of the Atlantic Ocean. Tropical Storm Fay had been toying with crossing Florida for the last day and a half but had finally made her move, upping her wind speed to 70 miles an hour as she moved North-East across the state.

The only consolation Grissom had was that Miami was not in the direct path of the storm. In the phone call he had received from Horatio three days ago, his lover had reassured him that this storm would be nothing compared to some of the weather he'd seen in Florida. There was nothing to worry about.

Grissom didn't try and argue with him, what was there to say or do anyway? Nothing on this earth could have made Horatio leave his city when disaster was about to strike. As sad and worried as he was, Grissom understood this. He didn't remind Horatio that he had grown up in California; He knew all about hurricanes. It wasn't just the storm itself you had to worry about, it was the other meteorological disturbances it could cause in the area, it was the flooding.

It was with a heavy heart that Grissom stood, 2500 miles away from his lover, thinking about how their lives were like this. Separate and dangerous. His finger worried the fabric on the little velvet box in his pants pocket.

####

"Hello sir."

Grissom almost keeled over with relief, his legs going numb at the sound of Horatio's gravelly voice. He sounded in good spirits, a tone Grissom recognized from when he spoke of closing a very satisfying case.

"God it's good to hear your voice," he exhaled, letting out a weeks worth of tense uncertainty. He had known better than to try calling, the lines would be backed up and Horatio would be too busy anyway. He needed to phone on his own time. This, of course, only made it all the more excruciating. "Everything's okay down there?"

"No deaths in my jurisdiction. It was nice to spend four days tossing sandbags." He didn't say 'instead of investigating potential foul play'. He didn't have to.

"You must be sore," Grissom smiled, thinking about Horatio's lean body. He was tall but not broad; he wasn't really made for sand bag detail. Grissom imagined him out in the dark, tossing them for fourteen hour days without complaint anyway, without so much as peep.

Horatio rumbled a sound that could mean just about anything but that Grissom took to mean it wasn't worth talking about. "It's good to hear your voice, too." Each man smiled to himself, picturing the other. "I've been thinking."

"Surely not." Grissom teased, speaking tenderly.

"I'd like to point out I had a lot of time to do that...and not much else for four days." Horatio defended himself.

Grissom grinned. "I'm sure. What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about how I call you 'Gil'." Horatio had a habit of stating things that made Grissom want to tease him mercilessly. He could sound incredibly earnest when saying something that, for all of its obviousness, Grissom could not possibly hope to fathom.

Clearing his throat to stifle a laugh, Grissom said, "uh, as opposed to?"

"A nickname...like a pet name except I wouldn't...I don't mean to say I think of you as a pet." He would usually, of course, realise how silly he sounded eventually.

Grissom couldn't help it. He chuckled to himself.

"I should... I should have a name for you." Horatio stated this simply.

Grissom shook his head. "Like what exactly?"

"Well...I spent four days with nothing to occupy my mind and...came up with nothing." Horatio rallied. "But it should be something...like honey."

"...honey..." Grissom's facial muscles seemed unable to decide if this was a joke and, if so, whether to smile at it or not.

"It's a term of endearment." Horatio tried.

"Right." Grissom's face had decided to frown, this conversation being far from the normal realm of their dialogue.

"I just call you Gil, it seems so... unromantic"

Grissom shook his head, his frown morphing into a fond smile. "There's nothing about what we share that I would consider 'unromantic'...honey. Atypical, perhaps, but not unromantic."

Horatio felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach, he felt happy. He found he struggled with expressing his emotions sometimes and then, there Grissom would be, helping him.

"People just have names for their..." Horatio trailed of as he frowned. It suddenly occurred to him that, even when speaking of Grissom, he referred to him as 'the person he was seeing' or 'Gil'. All the time.

The thought occurred to Grissom as well and it struck him as sad. They had been seeing each other just shy of a year and a half and they didn't know how to refer to one another. Both men rightfully, though separately, attributed this to the unusual circumstances of their attraction. 'Boyfriend', 'partner', everything they could think of boxed them in uncomfortably when spoken aloud.

An unusual, uncomfortable silence permeated the phone line.

"The, um, the airport should be open in a few days," Horatio attempted to ease them out of the silence, "feel like taking a trip?"

Frown returning, Grissom raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. "The airport...yeah," he breathed out in an uncertain sigh.

Horatio heard the displeasure in his voice and felt he had played some role in bringing it about. How exactly, he couldn't tell. "I could come up-"

"No," Grissom said quickly, "I haven't been down in a while, I'll um, I'll come."

Their conversation ended awkwardly and both men looked at their phones for a long while afterward.

####

Three heads were leaned over the coffee table in Horatio's living room, concentration seeping from each. Starting, erasing and starting over again, Kyle's brow was furrowed in agitation. He sat on the floor, facing the couch his father and Grissom sat on. Grissom's eyes moved back and forth behind his glasses, scanning over paperwork he had brought with him because there simply wasn't time for him ignore it for a week and half while in Miami. Flipping back and forth between report sheets in similar looking brown files, Horatio rounded off the trio with his own budget requests and proficiency exams.

"Damnit!" Kyle yelled, breaking the stillness that had reigned for an hour or so.

"Kyle." Horatio's tone never truly admonished his son, merely suggested that everyone would get along better if he ceased doing whatever had precipitated the saying of his name in the first place.

"I hate this, stupid damn biology," he raged, viciously erasing pencil marks.

Before Horatio could say his son's name more forcefully, Grissom spoke. "What are you working on?" He peered curiously over his glasses at the papers in front of Kyle.

"Regulation of genes," Kyle said, unimpressed.

"Bring it over," Grissom looked to Horatio and shrugged his head to the side, "move over, pal."

Horatio did as requested and shifted his paperwork to accommodate his son in between Grissom and himself on the couch.

"You know, this stuff is actually pretty interesting," Grissom said, reading over Kyle's homework.

"Yeah? I don't think so." Kyle's face practically puckered in distaste.

"It explains why your hair is blond instead of red, like Horatio's."

Kyle sat up, wary. "Really?"

"Yeah, I mean these questions are terrible but what they're trying to teach you underneath, that's where the good stuff is." He talked in a calm, patient tone and explained each problem with real examples, hoping the boy would find it interesting.

Horatio was thoroughly distracted from his work by the sight of his lover helping his son with his homework. There was something in that moment that tugged at his heartstrings, the normalcy of it all.

"How do you know all this?" Kyle looked askance at Grissom, in a manner not unlike his father.

"I did my doctorate in biology." Grissom nodded to Horatio, "it's also worth noting that your father majored in chemistry." Grissom held up the chemistry homework from underneath the biology papers.

Kyle looked endearingly at his father.

Horatio smiled at them both and leaned over to take the homework.

####

A unanimous decision to procrastinate in favour of a walk on the beach had been made shortly after Kyle's homework was mostly sorted. Grissom, in jeans, a dark blue t-shirt and Yankees ball cap, walked hand in hand with Horatio, dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt. Both wore sunglasses. Kyle was in baggy shorts that reached past his knees and a t-shirt sporting a rap logo.

"Can you visit more, Gil?" Kyle threw the question out idly, like he was asking to borrow five bucks. They were strolling through the sand and neither man had thought Kyle was paying them much attention.

The question caused Grissom to give him a sharp look, thankfully hidden by his sunglasses. He raised an eyebrow, partly to cover his initial reaction. "I'd like to," he said in what he hoped was a casual tone.

Horatio glanced over at his lover.

"Why can't you?" Again, Kyle spoke with the simple-mindedness of a teen.

Grissom inhaled. "Uh, work."

Kyle turned to face them, walking backward. "Couldn't you get a job at the lab here?"

Horatio felt Grissom stiffen.

"I'm just saying, it's nice having you here." Kyle shrugged, turned and continued walking.

Grissom and Horatio gradually came to a stand still and turned to one another. Grissom reached up and slipped off Horatio's sunglasses as he took off his own shades. Both men parted their lips and for a second, did not breathe.

The moment was shattered by Kyle's shouts for his father. His voice had a panicked quality that sent Horatio sprinting without a second thought.

He and Grissom came upon Kyle and the sight that caused his cries. Spinning him, Horatio gripped his son tightly to him, directing his face away. Grissom slowed and walked to the body, his curiosity and experience kicking in instantly.

"She's gone, Horatio. We should call it in."

####

Within 20 minutes, the deserted section of South Pointe Park they had been walking was swarming with uniforms and CSI's. Horatio had Kyle sit in the back of a cruiser while he and Grissom looked over the body. Eric and Wolfe scanned the surrounding area.

"Call me crazy but this looks like another one Horatio," Tripp said with a sigh.

"Yes Frank, it does. Left on Miami Beach..." Sunglasses retrieved from Grissom, he stood with his hands on hips and looked the body over.

The woman had been in her thirties, pretty with auburn hair down to her shoulders. She was naked, tied up to a support of the pedestrian bridge that led out to South Pointe spit.

Crouched down to look about her feet, ball cap on backwards, Grissom looked up at Horatio. "Is this a serial?"

"She's the third victim we've found in similar circumstances...but never somewhere as public as this." Horatio rumbled, his mind clicking facts like abacus beads.

"He's getting more brazen," Grissom murmured, tilting his head to the side to better see the ligature marks on the victims neck.

"Um, who the hell are you?" Tripp asked, eyeing the Yankees ball cap.

"Gil Grissom. I'm with the Vegas crime lab," Grissom replied, standing up and carrying on with his examination.

Tripp eyed him and looked to Horatio who gave him a look that said nothing much, at least indicating that it was all right for the foreign CSI to be there.

"Look at the way she's bound...almost...artfully?" Grissom ventured, noting the intricate knots that held the body. Horatio watched his lover's eyes roam the ground. Grissom stepped back from the body and moved towards the water, his mind lost to the problem before them.

"H, I'm sorry your day got interrupted," Eric said as he and Wolfe walked up to their supervisor.

"Not to worry Eric. Have you gentlemen found anything?" Horatio replied, cutting to the chase.

"Who's that?" Wolfe asked, attention drawn to Grissom's back as he crouched by the water.

"Mister Wolfe, have you found anything?" Horatio repeated.

Eric spoke, in lieu of his co-worker. "Not yet H, but...with this guy we never seem to. I think we should grid the area and dig down three feet, see if we get lucky."

"Good idea, Eric. Get a start on that immediately please." Horatio's tone was brusque. He was agitated that this killer was still out there.

"You got it." Before Eric could pull Wolfe away with him, Grissom walked up with a jar in his gloved hand. It wasn't that big, fitting easily into his palm.

"What is that?" Horatio asked, peering through his sunglasses at the contents.

"lampyridae luciolanae luciola." Grissom replied, holding up the jar to his face.

"Bugs?" Eric asked uncertainly.

"A species of firefly, I can't narrow it down any further without my entomology references," he looked to Horatio, "...but that's enough to tell me these bugs shouldn't be here."

"Because..." Ryan looked at this bizarre intruder with even greater curiosity.

"They belong in Asia," Grissom said simply.

Horatio couldn't help but let a smile creep into the corner of his mouth. "Ryan Wolfe, this is Gil Grissom from the Las Vegas crime lab." They shook one another's latex-gloved hand. "Mister Wolfe, please enter that into evidence."

As the two younger CSI's moved away from them, Horatio turned to Grissom. "We...have a bad habit." He had meant the comment in jest but could tell, even with his eyes covered, that Grissom didn't think it was funny.

"We do, actually." He looked at Horatio a moment longer before turning toward the body. "Care to get me a knife?"


	2. Chapter 2

Grissom and Horatio stood in the morgue, both vaguely wondering how it was this managed to happen to them. They had driven Kyle home before coming there, the boy a bit traumatized. He dealt with dead bodies on a weekly basis, just not out in the sun in the park. It was not the same.

"Very similar to the other bodies, Horatio. Multiple ligature marks and damage to the thyroid arteries from repeated manual strangulation." Doctor Loman indicated the bruises on the woman's neck.

"Yes, revived several times," he rumbled. "Physical findings Doctor?"

Tom shook his head. "No sign of tearing or bruising, no DNA present. Just like the others."

Grissom was peering at the body, jaw muscles twitching beneath his beard.

"But I did notice something I hadn't seen on the other bodies," Tom became excited and flicked off the overhead lights. He shone an ALS on the skin of the body. "Look...at that." He might of just pulled a rabbit out of a hat, he seemed so proud.

"Luciferase." Grissom stated, face immobile.

The wind noticeably left Tom's sails. "How did you know that?"

"Luciferase is a generic term for the chemical found in the abdomens of most insects capable of bio-luminecense. We found fireflies at the crime scene." He tilted his head slightly as he spoke, looking at the patterns drawn with the chemical all over the victim's body.

"Oh." Tom raised his eyebrows but said no more.

Horatio smiled with his eyes alone and spoke aside to his lover. "Any idea what it's doing on our victim?"

After a moment, eyes narrowed, Grissom shook his head. "I'm not sure. These markings aren't random...nor do they seem to be writing or readily recognizable symbols." He raised a single brow in fascination and met Horatio's eyes. "Taken with the position of the body and the intricacy of the bindings, they appear to be ritualistic."

Grissom looked up at the taken aback Doctor. "Did you find this on any of the others?"

Tom looked flustered. "Uh, I didn't check."

"You might want to have a look," Grissom suggested.

Tom looked at the body, his face becoming far away as he thought of the previous autopsies.

A rumble emanated from Horatio's chest. "I don't...have a good feeling about this."

"He's controlled, prepared," Grissom conceded, "you have your work cut out for you." He kept their eyes locked a moment longer before he left the morgue.

Tom watched as Horatio stared after the man, the Lieutenant's face unreadable.

####

Ryan looked up and watched as the Las Vegas supervisor walked to the elevator. "I still don't get what that guy's doing here. He's some sort of bug expert?"

All four CSI's were in the lab, sifting through sandy detritus. Eric's eyes flickered to Calleigh's who in turn looked to Natalia.

It was she that spoke after Ryan had looked back at them inquiringly. "You don't know?" Natalia lifted an eyebrow as a smile slowly curled her lips.

"Know what?" Wolfe crossed his arms and looked at his team mates.

The three other CSI's shared knowing looks before Eric spoke. "H and Grissom...they're together." 

Wolfe looked slightly confused and smiled as he shrugged. "What? What are you talking about?"

Looking around as if the details might be overheard, Calleigh leaned in as she spoke. "They're lovers," Calleigh's eyes got bright, a smile illuminating her face.

Wolfe barked out a laugh. "You...you three are yanking my chain." He nodded to himself, thinking he had them in their own joke.

"No, Wolfe, we're serious," Eric said but couldn't keep the smile off his face. Wolfe took this to mean he was right.

"Yeah, whatever. I hope you all know what H would say if he found out you were spreading rumours like that about him." He went back to brushing grains of sand off of a soda can.

Calleigh and Natalia shrugged at each other as Eric, grinning, shook his head.

####

Back pressed firmly against the headboard, Horatio had one arm wrapped tightly around Grissom's waist, drawing them together and encouraging his lovers subtle movements. His other hand gripped, released and stroked Grissom's hair, in time with the rhythm of his toes clenching and unclenching as Grissom moved on him. One hand buried similarly in Horatio's hair, Grissom's other stroked his lover's chest as their mouths met and parted over and over in an endless kiss.

There being, frustratingly for Horatio, nothing to go on with regard to their serial, Horatio had returned home and spent the night with his lover and son. Kyle stayed over in the spare room, insisting he wasn't troubled by the discovery of the body. Neither man had argued with him.

It was now morning and classical music, heavy on the strings, emanated from the small CD player on the bedside table. This was a practice they had taken up mostly to spare Kyle if he was at Horatio's when they wanted to make love.

Letting his hand slip to caress Grissom's erection, Horatio gripped his lover's jaw and ran his thumb along Grissom's lips. Their foreheads touched and eyes met, cloudy with emotion and lust.

"I won't last long with you doing that," Grissom flicked his eyes down to the space between them, his voice hoarse.

"Wait...wait...stay with me," Horatio rasped, keeping their eyes locked. The frantic need of the sex they usually had when they first reunited was not present. There had been time to work out the urgent desire that arose form being separated for months, having no physical contact. This moment had everything to do with being as close to one another as they could get, the need for an intimate connection.

Shuddering, Grissom breathed out his lover's name as he gripped the headboard for leverage to increase the force of his movements. He tried desperately to stifle the moans that came with the flood of warmth that spread from his belly. Horatio, jaw clenched and grunting, slipped his thumb into Grissom's mouth so he would have something to bite down on, careless of the red mark he would leave.

They sat staring into one another's eyes for a long time after that, caressing the skin of shoulders and backs. It was something Grissom had picked up from his mother, Horatio guessed, the fact that eye contact could say so much more than words. Sometimes they would lie in bed, heedless of the time, seemingly having whole conversations with their eyes alone.

"I love this body," Horatio murmured, stroking the fine, dark hairs on Grissom's lower abdomen.

"What's to love," Grissom replied self-deprecatingly.

With a slight tug on a tuft of beard, Horatio admonished him. "Have you ever felt like...you were part of a team when you were sleeping with someone and...and they were going at a different pace than you...maybe even in a different direction?" His words were metered, cautious as he carefully divulged this thought.

Grissom forced his mind to focus on his lover. Horatio did not ramble in ways that let a person see into his personal thoughts all that often and Grissom always tried to make the most of every opportunity. He smiled as he thought about how these whispered confidences had happened a little more often after Horatio had shared the details of his childhood.

"Of course. We're programmed from a young age to treat sex as...unapproachable, not to be spoken of. I think that translates into miscommunication in many relationships."

Smiling at the way his lover's mind worked, Horatio murmured in agreement. "Maybe it was a case of miscommunication with others but...I don't feel that with you. I feel like I can read you and...you can read me, that we're on the same page."

"In bed." Grissom stated with a grin.

"This...is not a fortune cookie." They laughed together and became aware of the fact that they were still connected. Grissom placed his hands on Horatio's chest and pushed off of him.

His mind mulled what Horatio had said as they dressed, harassed by Kyle's voice from downstairs. The little velvet box had travelled with him everywhere, dogging his thoughts as his indecision grew. He watched Horatio dressing from behind and worried that they might be using unspoken communication too much. They were neither of them mind readers and the things they needed to talk about were important.

He was beginning to worry that Horatio was content with the status quo and he, he was not.

"You've been up there for two hours, come on!" Kyle grumbled from downstairs, impatient to start lunch so they could be off.

"He talks a remarkable amount considering he's your son," Grissom mused as he slipped on a t-shirt. The homes of both men now looked as though two people lived in them, space having been created for two wardrobes worth of clothes.

"And what, exactly, are you implying?" Horatio raised an eyebrow before kissing his lover. He was happier than he could ever recall being in his life and that realization had stunned him a little. Over night it seemed, he had a family more complete and whole than he could have ever imagined. Cases rolled off of him more easily and he spent more time thinking about what he would do off the clock than on.

After a lunch punctuated with prodding from Kyle, Grissom retrieved the duffel bag that held his boxing equipment and slipped into a brown hoodie. Kyle was already standing outside on the doorstep as his father pulled Grissom close and kissed him.

Horatio parted Grissom's lips, intensifying the kiss as he stroked his lover's jaw with his thumbs. When they parted, Horatio looked deeply into his lover's eyes. "I'll be home before you get back, okay?" There was nothing else for it. The case was big and needed to be overseen by him and him alone. He felt guilty none the less.

Doing his best to shrug it off, Grissom twitched the corner of his mouth into a small smile. "Yeah. You do what you need to do."

"I need...I need to see you more. I know that." Horatio was trying to convey some very complex emotions that were stewing in the back of his mind and felt he was failing. Grissom pecked him on the lips and stroked his cheek affectionately.

"Please, please, please," Kyle chanted.

Smiling full out, Grissom squeezed Horatio's hand before walking out the door. "All right pal, let's go."

"Oh, thank you!" Kyle jogged to the car followed by Grissom. He watched the blond teen fondly, thinking about how much he had come to look forward to seeing both him and Horatio lately. It stirred a strange feeling in his breast as he wondered what it felt like to be a father and if he would ever know.

"Can I ask you something?"

Grissom shoulder checked as he moved into another lane, instantly wary of the casual tone with which that question had been asked. He'd recently felt that Kyle's was reaching a comfort zone with him that Grissom wasn't quite ready for. What, he wondered, could prepare you for the questions of a teenage boy?

"How about you ask me and I decide if I want to answer?"

Kyle smirked and faced the window. Grissom didn't avoid things the way his father sometimes would but he was very effective at providing just enough of an answer, never more. His mind worked like lightning and Kyle liked that about him. "I need to ask you about girls..." he started.

####

The excursion Kyle had been so excited to go on with Grissom was a trip to the boxing gym the CSI frequented when in Miami. Excited about the opportunity to learn how to fight, Kyle had been bugging Grissom for a while to let him train with him one day. Uncertain about Kyle's motives for wanting to learn the sport, Grissom had been putting it off until there was no good reason to any more.

And now he couldn't even lecture the boy on how misguided it was to think that learning to box would teach him to fight. He was being forced to offer far more sensitive advice than he would have really cared to.

"They're not cars, Kyle, you can't just shove the key in the ignition and expect to start the engine." Grissom was holding up two punching pads for Kyle as he spoke, his face serious. But Kyle was smiling as he perspired, throwing slightly erratic fists with his long arms.

"But that's how it seems to work for me, I mean, I think about a hottie and, bam! I'm ready to, you know," the teen grinned.

Grissom dropped his hands and looked at Kyle's bright, unassuming face. He felt a deep pang of anxiety at the lack of seriousness the boy displayed for this subject. "You talk about it like it's all hardware, Kyle. It's the software you need to be worried about." He spoke softly, concern making his voice tight.

"Ah, I don't need to worry about software," he replied crudely.

Grissom frowned at him and turned away, "forget it."

Kyle looked after him a moment before running to catch up with Grissom's retreating figure. He forgot sometimes that Grissom, unlike his father, had a limited supply of patience. "I'm sorry Gil. Please, continue."

Grissom shook his head. "I think you should speak with your father about this, I'm the wrong guy for you to be asking these questions." He wrapped a length of white cotton bandage around his knuckles, compressing them.

"What makes you say that?" Kyle leaned on the punching bag.

"You want someone to tell you what buttons to push," he pointed a wrapped hand at the boy, "I'm more concerned that you're pushing the buttons of the right person."

The smile faded from the boy's face as he thought about this, steadying the bag from the surprising force of Grissom's hits. "Don't you need to...try someone out to see if they're the right person?" He peeked around the bag.

Grissom's eyes focused on the centre of the bag as the muscles of his arm coiled for another strike. Sweat had formed a dark triangle on his t-shirt at the base of his neck. "Sex is a pretty poor audition."

Kyle's body bounced backward with the bag. After a moment, he said "Wait, you're telling me you've loved every person you've ever done it with?"

Grissom stopped and put his hands on his hips, looking like it was a silly question. "Yeah, that's what it's about for me. Sex is...a way to connect physically with someone I've already connected to emotionally, mentally. It should deepen intimacy. Otherwise it's hollow...pointless really." He shooed Kyle aside, taking up the bracing of the bag.

The boy looked pensively at his wraps as he bound his hands. As he took position, he looked briefly at Grissom before speaking and hitting at once. "So, what's it like to be in love?"

Barely moving from the small jumps of the bag, Grissom grinned behind it. "Hey, good question. Square your shoulders, plant your foot when you go to hit the bag."

Doing as instructed, Kyle looked around the bag a little to catch Grissom's eye. "What's it like?"

A few minutes passed as Grissom thought about this. "It's like...being blind and deaf your whole life," he spoke slowly, a lifetime's worth of experience on the subject flashing through his mind. "You know how to get around, you have an idea of what things feel and smell like...you think you know..."

Stopping abruptly, Kyle looked around the bag and caught the far away look in Grissom's eyes. The realization dawned on him that Grissom was thinking about his father.

"Then suddenly, you can see and hear the world. The cry of gulls, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the crash of the surf. The colour of the ocean where it's clear and shallow, the most pure blue." He looked up, out of his reverie and felt reassured by the appreciative smile on Kyle's face. "It can change everything."

"Well, when you put it like that," he chuckled, not unkindly.

Grissom looked at him directly in a way his father rarely did. "I'm not gonna tell you to wait Kyle, I know the pressure you're under at your age to just do it. Just...trust your instincts and remember, one way or another, it's a shared experience. At the heart of it, it's all about trust."

Kyle's young face was earnest as He tried process and commit to memory these words. Not quite sure he understood them completely, he found he wanted to.

"All right," Grissom said with finality, "enough with the hard questions and boxing for today. Let's get out of here." Instinctively, his hand rose to cup the nape of Kyle's neck in a protective and affectionate manner he had seen Horatio do a hundred times. It caught him off guard but Kyle smiled across to him.

"Thanks Gil."

He smiled back at him a smile that was a little conflicted, his mind full of anxiety for this young soul that had so much to learn. He squeezed Kyle's neck before letting his hand fall.

Kyle caught the frown that Grissom directed at his phone when he looked at it after they had left the gym. "Something up?"

He looked over at Kyle a little sadly, the boy thought.

####

Dressed semi-casually, Grissom stepped from the elevator wearing a thoughtful frown. Finding the room which held Horatio and Calleigh in their white lab coats, he entered and smiled tersely at the blond.

"Hi Grissom," she welcomed him warmly. "What are you doin' here?"

Staring pointedly at an apologetic looking Horatio for a moment, he indicated the evidence laid out on the table. "I heard you had another body."

Calleigh's smile faded. "Tracey Waters, 32, single, ad exec.."

Grissom snapped on a pair of latex gloves and leaned in over the midnight blue, leather corset that sat upon the table.

Horatio took the opportunity to lean in and whisper to his lover. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to come in." The truth was, he was glad Grissom had taken it upon himself to assist with this. The bodies were piling up with this case and the sharp mind of the Vegas criminalist could only help.

Fingers running along the fine stitching of the seams, Grissom turned his head briefly to speak to Horatio. "If it helps you get out of here faster," he whispered in return.

As he held up the corset to look it over, Calleigh took the opportunity to swab another section of it. "Apart from the fact that he's sick, what do you think it means?" She asked, seeing how intently the Vegas supervisor studied the leather.

"The wearing of corsets isn't sick, it's about control, domination in some cases," Grissom corrected her, punctuating it with a quick, sharp look. "It fits with the profile of the killer so far."

Calleigh and Horatio shared a brief look across the table which Grissom did not notice. The blond left the room with her swabs and Horatio moved ever so slightly closer to Grissom.

The Vegas supervisor set the corset down and looked over to his lover. "I'd like to see where the victims lived."

"I was...under the impression you were not working this case." A hint of amusement danced just beneath the expression on Horatio's face.

Grissom shrugged and twitched the corner of his lips up. "I figure I owe Miami one with all the help you've given Vegas."

"Ah, that...must be it," Horatio gave a nod and smiled as he held the door open for Grissom.

####

Slitting the crime scene tape that protected the forensic integrity of the evidence within, Horatio let them in to the apartment of their first victim. He then stood back, hands on his hips, and watched as Grissom flicked on a flash light and moved about the room. Just for a moment, he let his mind wander and thought about how attractive Grissom was when he was this concentrated.

His latex gloved fingers delicately lifted books to peer between and underneath them, shifted photo frames, opened drawers. "You haven't been able to find a connection between them yet, have you?" Grissom's voice was slightly obscured by the crouched position he was in, looking underneath a side table.

"Not...not yet," Horatio said, slowly walking around the perimeter of the room. There was nothing in the question that disparaged Horatio or his team but the answer he was forced to give nagged at him anyway. He looked over his shoulder as Grissom began speaking again, though his words were spoken for his mind's benefit alone, not Horatio's.

"It didn't begin with the ornate killing. He'll have started out...possibly with home invasions where the owner was unaware of his presence as they slept. Escalating from there to...abductions, violent but not leading to the death of the victim, not yet. He would only dominate them, humiliate them...but carefully. They would be let go until...until it started to become too risky for him, the possibility of being recognized too dangerous. Once the first kill is made out of necessity...he realizes it is the ultimate form of control...the perfect denouement."

Horatio looked at his lover, slightly unnerved by how he had just inserted himself into the killers thoughts, as if slipping into a pair of leather gloves made soft with repeated use.

The first two houses yielded nothing overly useful and when it came time for them to drive to the third, Horatio got a call out to a bank robbery. He thought nothing of Grissom's suggestion that he be dropped off at the third house to look around on his own. He had casually noted, when Grissom had walked into the lab earlier that day, that his lover was not carrying his service weapon. This was a fact he would later recall with vivid and disturbing detail.

Grissom felt his hunch was proving to be correct as he went about the third victim's home. Her tastes had been fairly subtle but there was no mistaking the purpose of her needle collection and leather cuffs. He was looking down at his phone as he exited her bedroom, planning on calling Horatio, when a blur of skin flashed in the corner of his eye. His phone clattered to the ground, Horatio's number on the display but not dialled.

The phone buzzed futilely beside its unconscious owner as Horatio called Grissom. The red head looked down at his phone, an uneasy feeling seeping down his spine. They were almost done processing the bank, it had been two hours and that seemed just a little longer than it should have taken Grissom to go through the house. He looked up and his eyes found Wolfe.

"Mister Wolfe, are you good to finish up here?" His tone was sharp, agitated.

"Yeah, H. What's up?" Wolfe leaned with his weight primarily on one leg, holding a camera in both hands.

"Eric!" Horatio called to the other CSI. "I need backup at another scene," he spoke over his shoulder to Wolfe, already walking towards the Hummer.

Eric looked sidelong at Horatio as the older man steered with one hand and alternated between the 'send' and 'end' buttons on his phone with the other. After every five seconds of ringing, Grissom's voice would repeat the same statement of 'You've reached Gil Grissom of the LVPD CSI Division. Please leave your name and number'. Then Horatio would flick his thumb over the two buttons again, his eyes never leaving the road as he weaved through traffic.

Removing his sunglasses, Horatio held them in his support hand by an ear piece as he gripped his gun. After his eyes had adjusted to the relative darkness of the interior of the house, Horatio saw Grissom's sprawled body. Moving his gun along his line of sight, he quickly approached the prone figure and knelt beside him as Eric cleared the rest of the small home.

"Gil?" Horatio's voice was soft as it prodded at the unconscious man. Grasping Grissom's head in his hands, Horatio leaned down and felt the tickle of a breath on his chin. He sat back up and maintained his grip on Grissom's jaw as he called for an ambulance.

Entering the living room just as Horatio closed his phone again, Eric saw his friend place a palm on Grissom's chest and gently shake him as his other hand caressed Grissom's cheek. A half relieved smile formed on the red head's lips when grey eyes flickered open at him.

"Hey," he whispered to Grissom's blinking face.

Grissom groaned and moved a tentative hand to his jaw, already beginning to swell and colour. Gently, Horatio took Grissom's hand and laid it back down.

"I've got an ambulance on the way. You just lie there until it gets here, okay?" Guilt was fast building in Horatio's mind as he looked at the dazed and shallowly breathing figure of his lover. He was supposed to be in Miami to see Horatio and relax a little. Yet somehow, they were both of them here, in a dead woman's apartment, one laid out and bleeding. Grissom was working this case a courtesy to Horatio and he couldn't even be there to protect the man. Horatio's stomach twisted.

"Take deeper breaths, don't go into shock," he whispered, trying to get Grissom's shifting eyes to focus on his own.

A little fascinated by this side of his friend he rarely saw, Eric watched as Horatio carefully helped Grissom to stand, supporting the slightly shorter man as he swayed. One hand firmly gripping Grissom's shoulder, the other holding his elbow, Horatio walked behind him as they moved toward the ambulance. With the help of the EMT, Horatio got Grissom seated on the stretcher on the pavement and watched as Grissom's pupils were checked.

Horatio thought Grissom was mostly out of it and was surprised when a hand firmly grasped his wrist. Grissom's hand.

"Wait," Grissom slurred, locking their eyes. "Get a swab."

It took a second for Horatio to realise what his lover wanted but he went to his Hummer and returned, hands in gloves, with a long thin cardboard box. Stepping directly in front of Grissom, intimately close, Horatio grasped the other man's jaw gently and pulled down his lip with his thumb. Looking between Grissom's bloody teeth and his granite eyes, Horatio ran the cotton swab along the ridges of his incisors. His hand lingered on Grissom's face for a moment after he'd finished, his pinkie feeling the throb of Grissom's pulse. Then he hollered 'take him!', the stretcher was loaded, the doors were shut and Grissom watched as the distance between them grew with speed.

Horatio slipped the swab into it's container, stripped off his gloves with agitation and let his hands rest on his hips as he watched the ambulance leave. "I want this guy, Eric," he growled to the younger CSI.

Eric studied Horatio's body language for a moment, then nodded. "We'll get him, H."


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the lateness of this one. Enjoy.

Horatio looked to his team, all three of whom were looking behind him. Turning, he saw that Grissom was standing in the door way and moved to speak with him. "Have you been cleared?" His tone had the slightest hint of concern in it.

Grissom held an ice pack wrapped in a cloth to his swollen face. "Yeah," he said, not quite meeting his lover's eyes as he stepped past him and into the room. Horatio, hands on his hips, looked down then over his shoulder at Grissom's back before turning toward the table as well.

Wolfe looked Grissom over inquisitively until he caught Eric giving him a warning glare.

Calleigh cleared her throat, trying to clear the conflicting thoughts that floated about the room from Horatio, Grissom and Ryan. "I was just saying the DNA results from the corset gave us one unknown _and_ showed that it was worn by all of our victims, not just Tracey Waters."

Grissom's eyes were full of focus, narrowed so the crows feet about them showed distinctly. "He was interrupted," he murmured. "It's part of his kit."

"Did you see the guy?" Ryan asked.

Shaken from his thoughts, Grissom looked around at the CSI's, just briefly catching Horatio's gaze. "No...but he was trained. One hit, I was out."

Subtle looks were cast Horatio's way by his CSI's, all three noting how dark the blue of his eyes had gotten. But he had not moved and, to an outside observer, looked calm.

"So we're looking for a big guy-" Ryan started to theorise but was cut off.

Speaking measuredly, trying to clear his mind of the pain in his jaw, Grissom shook his head. "Trained, not necessarily big. It takes around 600 pounds of well executed pressure to render someone unconscious. This guy wasn't hitting much harder than that but he hit fast and he went for the jaw."

"Are you sure about all that? You didn't see him, he did knock you out..." Calleigh began, not unkindly.

Appreciating that she was just trying to verify what they knew, Grissom answered her. "I box. I didn't see him but I saw his fist coming, tensed my neck."

Horatio's jaw clenched rhythmically.

"If you can can see that someone is about to hit you and brace your neck, the chances of receiving a concussion, therefore blacking out, are greatly reduced. Unless that person really knows how to punch."

Calleigh nodded, impressed with how much thought he had put into this already.

"My concern," Horatio cut in in his deep gravel, "is what he was doing there."

"I've been thinking about that too. Do we have photos of that house?" Grissom asked, slightly muffled by the ice.

"Yeah, we thought it was pretty likely that was where the victim was abducted even though we didn't find any signs of forced entry or a struggle." Eric explained.

"You want to see if we can figure out if he took anything." Calleigh inferred.

Grissom twitched the undamaged corner of his lips up and began walking to the door with the other CSI's.

"I'm gonna stay and keep searching for any information on this corset," Ryan offered, staying behind. Horatio gave him a nod before following Grissom out the door.

"Grissom?"

The Vegas supervisor turned to look at Horatio quizzically. He wasn't used to Horatio calling him by his last name.

"May I speak with you for moment?" Horatio's face was serious and Grissom nodded readily. The Miami supervisor indicated to Eric that he and Calleigh should head to the Hummer.

Ice still pressed to his face, Grissom followed Horatio without question, slightly concerned about him. They entered his glass walled office and Horatio immediately went to his desk, crouching down to unlock a bottom drawer. He stood and slid out the magazine of the pistol he had retrieved, setting in on the desk. The rest of the steps necessary to check that a weapon was ready for use followed seamlessly. Horatio slipped the weapon into its holster and walked to Grissom who had watched the motions of his lover from the door.

There was a vulnerability in Horatio's eyes that Grissom did not see often, the last time being when he had confided in Grissom about his family. Horatio offered up the gun. "I should never have let you walk in there without a firearm, without backup."

Gripping gun, holster and the hand that held them, Grissom tilted his head slightly as he spoke. "I should have known better."

Horatio frowned and looked at the floor.

"Hey." Grissom forced him to look up with the one gentle word. "Come on," he nodded toward the door.

####

"I think I've got it," Calleigh called to the men through the house. She stood infront of an open bureau in the victim's room, holding a photo of the same in one hand. Eric, Horatio and Grissom all joined her.

"There was some sort of rigging in here. Black leather straps, possibly iron buckles." She said, scrutinizing the photo as Eric shifted some of the other items in the bureau.

"So he had been in her house before," he said over his shoulder.

"That means he knew her," Horatio rumbled.

"More importantly, he knew about her fetish," Grissom added with a raised brow.

The three other CSI's turned to look at him but his eyes were focused on an indeterminate point in space. Eventually, he took the photo from Calleigh's hand and and looked up to them all.

"I think we need to take another look at that corset."

####

"I've ran multiple searches for information on this corset. I just can't find anything." Ryan stood glowering at the stiff blue leather upon their return. "It looks a lot more boutique than even the boutique stuff I can find on-line."

Grissom picked up the corset again, turning it about in his hands.

"Great. We've got no DNA matches on anything so far and still nothing connecting our victims." Eric shook his head, disgusted and frustrated.

Grissom frowned before speaking. "I...I may know someone who can help with this." The CSI's looked up at him, their curiosity roused.

Grissom cleared his throat and looked to Horatio. "Can you set up a video conference for me?"

####

Grissom looked up at the screen in the AV lab as he waited for the phone to be answered. Horatio, arms crossed, cast occasional glances to his lover from where he stood behind him. Calleigh set the corset on the table infront of all of them while Eric stood back and Wolfe worked on setting up the feed.

"Heather."

The tone with which Grissom said this tickled something in Horatio's mind, he couldn't quite tell what or why.

"I need your help with a case if...if you would give it."

In another moment, the Miami CSI's were looking at a very distinct and beautiful woman on the large screen. Her eyes found and settled on Grissom. Horatio shifted slightly, looking aside at the woman.

"Heather?" Grissom's tone was still different from the one he used to address people in the lab. It was soft, accommodating.

"I'm here. You look well Grissom."

"Thank you. You look beautiful as ever."

Horatio couldn't help it as his eyebrow flicked up for second. He felt he had a vision, just for that moment, of what Grissom may have looked like as a schoolboy.

Not letting such flagrant flattery earn her errant friend any points, Heather continued smiling coolly at him. "What are you doing in Miami?"

"Cockroach race." He didn't hesitate. Her look said she saw the half truth of this but she said nothing.

"I need your expertise." Lifting the corset up for the camera to better see, Grissom returned his eyes to Heather's.

"Exquisite." Her eyebrows raised in surprise, a little bit intrigued. "Amelio Dianetti, you have to know him to buy from him. He's based in Milan."

"We found it on a murder victim."

"Hmm, Dianetti primarily sells to people in the scene, people _well known_ in the scene. I don't have to tell you that dominance isn't about violence, Grissom. If the original owner of this piece was involved...I don't believe they are your murderer."

His eyes flickered uncertainly before he asked his next question. "Could you give us the name of someone who might be able to help us in the area?"

As expected, Heather's eyes glinted a warning. "You have a habit of looking in the wrong places for killers, Grissom."

He swallowed, then his lips parted, at a loss as for what to say for the smallest of moments. "I've got four dead bodies and nothing to go on, no way to connect them. The killer may have nothing more to do with the scene than that he cleans the bathrooms at a club. Either way, I need a name."

She gave no outward sign of it but the distaste she felt for Grissom in that moment came through never the less. "Thomas March, Infinite Possibilities," she said after a minute, "_don't _tell him I sent you."

Grissom looked relieved. "Thank you Heather."

"The cockroaches must be violent down there," she said, catching Grissom off guard.

In the span of a second he looked down in confusion, touched his bruised lip and looked up again to find the feed had gone dead and Heather was gone. He stared at the blank screen as the CSI's in the room wiped the surprise at what they had just witnessed from their faces.

Horatio cleared his throat. "What next?" His voice was even.

Grissom looked over to him as he dropped his hand from his face. "We need to look up where 'Infinite Possibilities' is and go speak with Thomas March."

The first minutes of the ride to the club were silent as they drove toward a sun set. The day had been long and full.

"Can I..." Horatio let his rough voice trail off. Communication was high on his list of priorities of things to improve upon, especially where it concerned his family. Where it concerned Grissom.

Feeling a bit touch and go from the punch, Grissom simply looked over at Horatio and let him take his time. It was a surprisingly effective strategy, just letting the man sort out his thoughts.

"Can I ask you who she is?"

Smiling at his lover, Grissom reached up and grasped his hand where it rested on the centre console. "She's a friend," he squeezed Horatio's hand, causing their eyes to meet for a moment, "an old friend."

His strong hand clenched around Grissom's. "I feel like I'm learning some things about you today."

Grissom chuckled softly. "Well, you know how I like pain?"

Horatio felt warmth seep through him at the memories of just how much his lover did like pain and he raised an eyebrow behind his sunglasses. "I do know," he replied huskily.

"Well," Grissom shrugged, "I like some other things too."

Horatio put the vehicle into park outside Infinite Possibilities, removed his sunglasses and looked head on at Grissom. "How has this not come up before now?"

Grissom smiled fully, contorted as it was by his swollen jaw. "Several reasons." He leaned in over the centre console so their faces were closer. "One, it hasn't _really_ been necessary." He waited to make certain Horatio understood the meaning of his words. "Two...I was not and...am not sure how you feel about it. I haven't felt the need to press it...just yet."

Horatio kept a steady gaze on his lover as he spoke, realizing this was difficult for him to express. Digesting these facts about his lover and the complex emotions they caused to well within him took Horatio a minute. Then he opened his mouth, frowned, closed it and looked back and forth between Grissom and the floor mat a few times.

"It's okay," Grissom said after watching this uncertain display. "You don't have to-"

"No, Gil, I," he looked his lover square in the eyes, frowning a bit in concentration. "I want you to know...that it is very important to me that you are happy."

Horatio's eyes searched Grissom's. The Vegas CSI was a little surprised by this tender statement from his lover.

"And...if...when...you want to...I will...I'll try anything once as long as I don't have to cheer for the Heat." Horatio finished with a smile as Grissom burst out laughing. When he had calmed somewhat, Horatio recaptured his eyes, serious once more. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Grissom looked around outside the vehicle before he drew Horatio to him for a deep kiss, his tongue not shy in it's requests. He pulled back after a moment. "I do and I love you."

His capacity for deep emotional communication being perhaps spent for the time being, Horatio responded with a deep rumbling from his chest and a smile. His lover took it for what it was and smiled in return.

####

The club reminded Grissom of many of the fetish operations he had been to in his investigations in Vegas, excepting that, like everything in Miami, it had a somewhat shinier façade.

Entering ahead of Horatio, Grissom approached the front desk and the tall man behind it dressed in a black leather vest and pants.

"Hi, we're looking for Thomas March," Grissom said.

The leather-clad man looked both of them over. "Well you two have come to the right place." He directed his next comment to Grissom. "We can find a way to loosen him up in no time."

Horatio cocked his head, cleared his throat and raised his brow behind his sunglasses. Grissom looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Oh him? He's my police escort."

"Deeply kinky," the man said appreciatively.

Clearing his throat again, Horatio removed his sunglasses and fixed the man with a no-nonsense look. "I take it you're Thomas March."

The man merely inclined his head.

As Grissom spoke to March about details pertaining to their case, Horatio found he could not concentrate for the sounds emanating from the hallway. The distinct crack of a hard object on skin was a sound Horatio could pick out of almost any din. It made his fists itchy. He could see Grissom showing photos to March but could not focus on the words exchanged. When the woman's voice cried out 'stop' his feet moved, his hand went to his pistol. The response was automatic and had no regard for the words Grissom called out after him.

The door was kicked open and the man holding the strap forced against the wall by the barrel of Horatio's gun.

"Ma'am, are you all right?" He looked aside at her while keeping one eye fixed on the man his gun was trained on.

"Thomas, what the hell is this?" The woman looked to March and Grissom who entered the room seconds after Horatio.

"This is the cops, Jean, and this one's hero complex is in full bloom," an unimpressed March said, looking at Hortio.

"Come here," Grissom pushed Horatio's gun arm down and dragged him forcefully out into the hallway. Not that it was much more private. Doors all along the hall had opened and people were staring at them.

"What are you doing?" Grissom hissed, leaning in to protect some of their words from being overheard.

"Did you not hear that?" Horatio asked, confused and upset though his composure was still intact.

Grissom looked incredulous. "It's a BDSM club, Horatio, what were you expecting to hear? She's just trying to do her job."

"She said stop." He raised his voice slightly at this, causing heads along the corridor to crane to see them better. He couldn't believe she was being paid to be hit. He couldn't believe someone was paying to hit her.

"That's what you heard, that's not what she meant." Grissom was trying to temper his agitation with understanding. His lover's mind was a complex thing, wound tightly with notions of right and wrong more stringent than most.

Horatio's face cycled through a range of emotions as this. He didn't understand. He didn't want to understand.

He looked about as he was wont to do when trying to collect his thoughts and his eyes settled on something and grew wide. "Hey!" Shouting, he moved quickly to seize a skinny, pale young man from one of the doorways.

"Horatio!" Grissom followed him, amazed at the brutality with which his lover had laid hands on the man.

"Look!" Horatio had one of the man's arms forced behind his back while he gripped the offenders neck as he pressed him against the wall. He indicated the harness the man was wearing and twisted his arm, causing him to cry out.

Grissom saw that it was the stolen harness and understood Horatio's knee-jerk reaction.

"Where did you get this?" Horatio growled into the man's ear, pressing his face hard against the wall.

"Agh! What are you talking about?" The man's voice was high, afraid.

"Horatio, this isn't him," Grissom insisted, pointing to the man's undamaged knuckles.

A snarl twisted Horatio's face. "He...has got something to answer for." He cuffed the man roughly and hauled him out to the Hummer. When Grissom climbed into the passenger seat five minutes later he looked at Horatio, somewhat stunned, and shook his head.

Neither man said anything to the other as they calmed their respective breathing.


	4. Chapter 4

I can't remember if I mentioned that I was going to abuse the fellas a little in this one, but I certainly have. The good news is, I have absolute faith in their ability to bounce back and kick a little ass while they're at it. Enjoy.

####

"How did it go?" Calleigh asked when she saw Grissom, looking slightly agitated. Her eyes drifted over to where Horatio was herding a man to interrogation.

Looking briefly in the same direction, then back to her, he said "depends on who you ask. If we want anything else from March, we're gonna need a warrant and we have absolutely no probable cause with which to get one."

Crossing her arms, Calleigh looked sympathetic. "He was uncooperative."

Grissom quirked his head slightly to the left. "Someone was uncooperative."

Calleigh raised her eyebrows but didn't respond. They both looked to Horatio, standing over the suspect with his hands on his hips. "And he is?" She asked.

"He's all we've got to go on," he replied with a shake of his head. "We found him wearing the stolen fetish gear."

####

"Answer the question, Mark." The anger and impatience in Horatio's tone caused a tremor to make its way up Grissom's spine as he entered the room. He had never heard or seen Horatio like this before.

The man shifted uncomfortably. "Why won't you listen to me," he said shakily, "this is mine."

Grissom watched Horatio tense and narrow his eyes. He walked to the table and looked over Mark Tremblant who seemed to take comfort from his presence. "Mister Tremblant, if our murder victim ever wore that harness, we'll find her DNA on it and it will appear that you not only had something to do with her death, but the deaths of three other people." Grissom said this softly, sitting down across from him. His method involved appealing to a criminal's reason.

When Mark didn't speak for a moment, his eyes flashing back and forth in a panic at the severity of what he had been accused, Horatio leaned down to speak softly in his ear. "Four counts of murder, Mark. That'll buy you a needle in Florida, my friend."

The man may have wet himself. He started to babble about how he had traded for the harness and had no idea where it had really come from.

"Highly convenient," Horatio rumbled. "Give us a name."

Looking between Grissom, who eyed him inquisitively, and Horatio, who loomed over him, Mark shook his head. "I don't know his name. I met him at the club, he was a customer I think."

"Did he propose the trade?" Grissom asked, brow furrowing in focus.

"Yeah, yeah he did." Mark was panicking, his mind unable to come up with details. "He wanted my corset."

Horatio crossed his arms and frowned. Grissom leaned forward intently and looked Mark straight in the eye. "Were you wearing that corset when he offered you the harness?"

"No, it wasn't made for me. It's a women's cut." Sweat beaded on his forehead. He couldn't tell if he was helping himself or not, neither man was giving him any indication that this was the case.

Looking to his lover, Horatio watched as he pursed his lips, eyes still narrowed. "Was it in the room? How did he know you had it?" Grissom prodded him a little harder, more urgently.

Blinking, Mark stuttered as he tried to remember.

"Think Mark!" Horatio growled.

Mark winced and stared in desperation at Grissom. "I don't...I don't know. It's not part of my work kit, it's for percy use, for friends."

"And you've never brought it to work?" There was a light in Grissom's eyes as they moved quickly, searching their suspects face. He could feel they were on the tip of something.

"No. Not even to make the swap, I met him some place else." He finished in a croak.

Grissom leaned back and looked at Horatio, satisfaction mixed with a bit of vicious pleasure stealing accross his face.

####

Horatio had his sunglasses tucked around his neck as they drove in the Miami night. He was chewing absentmindedly on a hangnail, thinking about their case. His team had already been pushed into working overtime today and he had sent them all home so that they would have fresh eyes in the morning. They would have to locate the place where Mark had exchanged gear with their suspect, run DNA on the stolen harness and _somehow_, get a warrant to get access to Infinite Possibilities client records.

This last thought made him look over at Grissom who leaned on the passenger side door, staring out at the light reflecting off of the water. He had been uncommonly quiet since the incident at the club. Horatio didn't blame him nor did he know how to break that silence himself.

"I um...I'd like to spend some time with you and Kyle tonight. Would you be interested in going to dinner?" He ventured, keeping his eyes on the road.

Continuing to stare out the window, Grissom simply responded 'yes'. His mind was full to bursting with the case and with thoughts of Horatio. It jumped back and forth from the detail that the corset had never been at the club to the fact that Horatio had an undeniably brutal steak in him. There simply wasn't space for his brain to formulate conversation in that instant.

####

Both men were quietly but separately amused at how distracting Kyle could be. As they walked past the palm trees that lined Meridian Avenue, vaguely searching for a spot to eat in the pedestrian corridor, he rambled excitedly about basketball.

"Sean totally thought he had the ball, like he was going to get past me and lay it up but I had the tip of _one_ finger," he held up his hand and wiggled his middle finger, "on that ball. Before he even knew where it went, I was on the other side of the court making a sick jump shot."

The two men slipped their hands together, smiling to themselves. This trip wasn't turning out exactly like they would have liked but both felt grateful in that moment. Kyle was grateful too. He was hoping to spend more time with his father and Grissom but knew the case would ruin that. They didn't have much time together but they weren't excluding him because of it. He looked up to Grissom, whose side he walked at, and smiled as he continued to relay the details of his astounding victory.

"We really need to shoot some hoops dad, I mean, seriously, I've played baseball with Gil. Baseball, dad, _baseball_." He said this like it should wound his father to think that he had partaken of the sport.

It caused both men to chuckle. Horatio shook his head and was in the middle of responding when a shout directly behind him caused him to turn. It wasn't so much the homophobic slur that caused him to look over his shoulder so much as the tone it was said in. He knew that tone, it spoke of violence and fear and it was too close.

His hand was reaching for his gun but he lost control of his faculties when the fist caught him in the temple. He twisted awkwardly, his hand slipping from Grissom's.

It took less than a minute, in Grissom's recollection, for everything to happen. He caught the movement on his left side when Kyle was jerked around roughly by someone pulling on his shirt. As he heard the peculiar sound of a fist on flesh to his right, his arm was pulling back, raised and ready. Instinctively, he let it fly at the man who had his own hands on Kyle, connecting with his face and feeling the shifting of cartilage.

He knew how to hit. The man dropped like a sack of stones. He did not move afterward.

As Grissom's arm was retracting it was reaching for the pistol Horatio had given him earlier that day. Crouching slightly, he spun around and levelled it at the man who stood over Horatio.

"Police! Get your hands on your head, now, hands on your head!" He bellowed. Grissom didn't have a voice like Horatio's, the kind of voice that threatened as it ordered when used correctly. His was just a little too high, a little less rough than Horatio's.

Not that it mattered when he had a gun pointed at the person he needed to direct. The man, dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, did as he was told when he saw the gun and his friend on the ground.

"Get down on the ground, face down," Grissom ordered further, not shouting but speaking loudly, clearly. The man dropped to his knees and placed his palms on the ground to lower himself down. Grissom walked to his side and kicked his arm out from underneath him so he fell on his chest, winding him.

"Don't move," he hissed before looking quickly over his shoulder. His heart was racing, pounding so loudly he could hear the thump of it in his ears.

Horatio was sprawled on the ground, blood leaking from his nose and ear on the side he had been hit. Breathing fast, Kyle knelt next to him, afraid to touch him, afraid in general. His long fingered hands wrung the fabric of his shorts.

"Kyle, are you all right?" Grissom was trying to speak calmly but he could see just enough to know that Horatio wasn't moving. It was making him sweat cold in the warm night air. "Kyle?"

"He's not moving," the boy said unsteadily.

People all around them had scattered, fear of the fight and the gun emptying the street. Slipping his phone out of his pocket but never letting his eyes leave his target for long, Grissom dialled 911. He spoke quickly in a contained manner, learned from years spent communicating important information through this system. It was as reflexive as his punch had been, as drawing his weapon had been.

His phone put away, all he could do was keep his gun trained on the prone figure in front of him. He couldn't tell what Horatio's condition was, he didn't know if Kyle was all right. The frustration he felt caused him to tighten his grip on his pistol as sweat beaded on his forehead. The bruise on his jaw throbbed in time with his heart and, desperately, he tried to focus and not black out. Stress was the last thing his concussed head wanted right now.

"You're a cop?" Came the muffled words from the man on the ground.

"Shut up," Grissom said through clenched teeth.

The sirens approach filled him relief, short lived though it was. The ambulance arrived before the police cruisers and the technicians saw the gun Grissom had drawn.

Eyes swimming with desperation, he mouthed 'please' when he saw them hesitate then remain in the cab of the ambulance. He understood but their actions caused his breathing to increase in a panic. It wasn't their job to get shot at and they had no idea who was the aggressor.

So Grissom kept his gun on their attacker and the ambulance techs waited until the cops arrived before getting out.

The police officers who did arrive immediately drew their weapons and told Grissom to drop his. He held up his hands as the officers advanced on him then, gun pointed at his chest, took the weapon from his hand.

"I'm with the Las Vegas crime lab, I have identification," he breathed to the officer who took his gun.

"All right, bring it out slowly," the female officer said.

He obliged but immediately turned to Horatio after he had handed it to her, ignoring her protests. The red head had a neck brace on and was having gauze packed into his bloody ear. There wasn't much information Grissom could give them, both because of the shock of seeing Horatio like that and because he literally hadn't seen what had happened to him. It was rare for him to have to say 'I don't know' so many times in so short a span of time.

Standing at the back of the ambulance Grissom looked over at Kyle for minute and saw the stricken look on his face. He was in shock.

"Where are you taking him?" Grissom asked of the EMT.

"Mount Sinai," came the clipped response before the doors were shut.

Grissom nodded and steered Kyle toward the car parked a few blocks away. The female officer who had taken his gun and ID called after him. "Doctor Grissom, we need your statement."

"You can find me at Mount Sinai," he turned just long enough to speak this to her, then continued walking, his hand on Kyle's elbow.

####

"Excuse me, we're looking for Haratio Caine. He was uh, brought in with a head injury."

The woman who looked up at Grissom gave him a sympathetic smile. Bruised and tousle-haired, the man looked like he had had a rough time. The teenager next to him, while not visibly injured, looked scared and unsure. "I assume you're family?"

"Yes," Grissom answered automatically.

The receptionist nodded her head and passed him a form. "Sign in here. He's just getting prepped for a CAT scan. You can see him in 20 minutes or so."

"Do you know his condition?" His asked quickly, afraid of the question, afraid of the answer.

She shook her head, smiling the same smile.

"Thank you." Grissom looked down at the form and began filling it out, starting with Kyle's information. When he came to the section marked 'relationship to patient' for his own information, his pen halted and hovered above the box. The conversation they had had about what to call one another played through his mind. The pen marked the page after a moment and Grissom set the clipboard down on the counter.

He steered Kyle to a chair just inside of the main doors, a space clearly meant for those who had to wait. They sat side by side, contemplating their own thoughts quietly to themselves. Kyle started to rock gently, his gaze intently glued to the white linoleum. Grissom looked over at him and his lips parted, about to say something.

His thoughts faltered though. Who was he in this situation? Who was he to this child?

This only spurred his mind on to contemplate everything that had managed to happen in the last two days. He found himself slightly dizzy and, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he placed his head between his knees and breathed.

####

When a nurse finally came and found them 45 minutes later, in which the police had harassed them for details about the fight, Grissom groggily hauled himself to his feet. She informed them of Horatio's condition as they walked toward the room he was in. He had a fairly severe concussion and a minor skull fracture, contracted when his head had struck the pavement. He was, however, awake and this information caused Grissom to exhale the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in.

Horatio was going to be all right.

The room the lanky Lieutenant occupied was outside the bounds of emergency and therefore quiet. He lay atop a bed, still in his dress pants and collared shirt, now stained with dried blood. There was relief in the smile he gave Grissom and Kyle, his head flopped to the side to see them as they came through the door.

"Hi there," he greeted them, his voice hoarse and quiet.

"Dad." Kyle put his hands on the railing of the bed and simply looked at his father. Emotions more complex than most 17 year-olds were capable of fathoming were battling within him. He had never seen his father look weak or hurt before and it was deeply unsettling.

Grissom's face was considerably more expressive. Horatio could see the worry written all over him and something else, something he couldn't quite read.

"You have a concussion and a hairline fracture," Grissom explained evenly, "they want to keep you over night for observation."

Horatio closed his eyes and grumbled. Grissom winced at the purple colour of the skin around his eye.

Opening his eyes after a moment, Horatio reached an unsteady hand up to Kyle's cheek as he surveyed his young face. "Are you okay?" His eyes slipped to Grissom's. "I don't remember what happened."

Kyle was not inclined to talk about it. He stood stock still and appreciated the feel of his father's hand on his face, warm and reassuring as it always was. He wasn't overly physically affectionate but when he needed it, he would take it.

Grissom shook his head slightly. "Neither of us were hit. I can give you all the details in the morning but you need to rest now." His hand squeezed Horatio's thigh, knowing that underneath the fabric of his pants his skin was just as easily bruised as anyone else's, his bones just as easily broken.

Horatio looked back and forth between the pained expressions of his son and lover as he started to loose consciousness again. Whatever had happened, it had shaken them both significantly and he railed against the fog that descended on his thoughts. He didn't want to leave them again.

Kyle placed his father's slipping hand down upon his chest, leaving his own hand there to feel the rise and fall of his father's breath. Both he and Grissom stood for a while, touching the man that had brought them all together, reassuring themselves.

When Kyle's stomach rumbled, Grissom looked to him then back to Horatio and inhaled deeply. Withdrawing his hand from his lover regretfully, he touched Kyle just so on the elbow causing the child to look over at him, somewhat startled.

"Let's go get you something to eat."

Kyle shook his head. "No. I'm not leaving him."

"Just for a few minutes. You haven't eaten in hours," Grissom prodded gently.

Kyle looked back to his father, frowning slightly.

Grissom leaned his head slightly to the side. "No one can hurt him here, Kyle. I promise."

Their eyes met and Kyle understood that their fear was shared, Grissom didn't want to leave any more than he did. But Grissom was focused on Kyle too, the boy saw, worried for him as much as for his father.

He nodded at Grissom and they walked from the room, both casting last glances to Horatio through the window.

They left the hospital and found a pizza-by-the-slice shop nearby that was open late. Grissom watched with amusement and surprise as Kyle ate four large slices and downed a soda while he struggled with one slice. His appetite was being affected by his own concussion but Kyle's seemed healthy, unaffected by the stress of the evening.

The boy slurped at his soda and cast unsteady glances at Grissom who saw them but waited for Kyle to speak.

"I didn't help," he said quietly after several moments of silence. His words had the undertone of guilt Grissom recognized from Horatio.

"How do you mean?" Grissom asked this carefully, elbows on the table and chin on his laced fingers. A posture he had perfected after years of debriefing his young CSIs.

Kyle swallowed hard when he looked up into Grissom's eyes, focused and slate grey. "That guy knocked dad out and...the other one was coming for me and I just...I just froze." His voice became high, strained with emotion as his eyes watered.

Jaw muscles clenching at his own frustration with the situation, Grissom's eyes remained hard out of anger but not at Kyle. His heart broke for the boy and he found he couldn't answer him right away. "What do you think you should have done, Kyle?"

"Anything!" There was nothing for it. His voice cracked and tears spilled down his cheeks. "You were right there, ready to fight for us, I saw it in your eyes." He leaned in, his blue eyes the colour of the sky where it meets the horizon, nearly white. Like his father's. "And I didn't."

Grissom reached out a hand and gripped Kyle's shoulder firmly, screwing up his own face at the sight of the child's tears. "Kyle..."

All six feet of his lanky frame unfolded itself from the small plastic table and he left the restaurant, clearly ashamed. Somehow Grissom understood that this wasn't meant as a rejection of him and he rose to follow. Kyle stood with his hands on his hips, his head hanging to hide his tears and the sounds of them. Standing infront of him, hesitating, Grissom watched him cry as his stomach turned. Haltingly at first, he wrapped his arms around Kyle. The strength of Grissom's hold increased when he felt Kyle lean into him, his own lean limbs about Grissom's shoulders.

He rubbed Kyle's back with gentle swirls of his hand, feeling the warm wet of tears and breath soaking into the shoulder of his shirt. Eventually his mind made sense of the myriad thoughts coursing through it. "No one has the right, Kyle, to make you fear for your life or the lives of your family." He squeezed the boy closer and closed his eyes. "Your reaction was _not_ what was wrong, it was the situation you were in that was impossible."

The answer Kyle gave was nothing more than the dry hiccups of tears and the strengthening of his grip. All he could think about was how life had seemed to be going so well this last little while and how he had known something had to give. It always did.


	5. Chapter 5

Grissom personally saw Kyle to the morgue in the morning. They had both stayed at the hospital over night, Kyle managing to sleep in the uncomfortable chair next to his father's bed. Grissom had not slept, instead keeping an eye on Horatio, noting when the nurse came to wake him up every hour. Their eyes would meet before he drifted off again and Grissom knew his sentinel-like position was a comfort to his lover.

However, he was now dead tired as he slowly moved through the lab, finding the room where the day shift had gathered. Rumour had spread and they all turned to look at him apprehensively as he entered.

"Where's Horatio?" Eric's tone was sharp and forceful, his frown bearing down on Grissom.

Grissom rubbed his beard with his thumb and looked down at the table before meeting their eyes. "He's in the hospital."

The anxiety in the room heightened, every person leaning in a little more to listen to Grissom.

"He was assaulted last night and..." His brow furrowed as his face darkened. "He sustained a non-serious linear fracture to his occipital bone and a concussion. They're keeping him at Mount Sinai for the time being."

"Oh my god," Calleigh breathed, bringing her hand to her mouth. The other CSI's looked shocked as well.

Save for Eric. "Why?" He looked at Grissom's slightly suspect swollen knuckles then back to the man's grey eyes. Horatio was his family, plain and simple. The thought of anyone touching him filled Eric with a simmering rage.

Finding he couldn't meet Eric's gaze, Grissom leaned on the table and looked down at it, shaking his head. "There was a lot of confusion," was all he said, a fury of his own building as he spoke. Fury at the fact that he felt he had to hide the truth of last night, fury at what those men had done to the person he loved and why.

His lack of an explanation did not sit well with the team of CSI's and Eric was about to push Grissom on their behalf when something caught Calleigh's eye.

"Was Kyle with you?" Her eyes narrowed at a point outside the room, drawing everyone else's attention.

Grissom's chest constricted as an anger he rarely felt coursed through his veins. He stepped from the room without a word to the CSI's and marched toward the officer he saw standing with Kyle.

"Hey!" He called, drawing Stetler's attention. "Who are you?" Grissom placed himself between Kyle and the tall man, his face and body tense.

"I'm with IAB-" Stetler began but was cut off.

"What are you doing speaking with this minor without his guardian present?" His fists were balled, his voice a little high in his aggravation and sleep deprivation. He knew full well what IAB was doing speaking with Kyle and it infuriated him.

Lab techs and CSI's had filtered into the hallway at the sight of Stetler being confronted but kept their distance.

"He has information pertaining to last night's incident," Rick said, his voice oozing contempt , his eyes moving over Grissom's stout figure with mild interest.

"Yeah? So do I. So why don't you do your job and interview me instead of harassing a minor?" He looked back at Kyle. "Go back to work, Kyle. If anyone else tries to speak with you, you ask for myself or Calleigh, okay?"

Kyle nodded at Grissom, a little stunned and uncertain. He wasn't sure what had just transpired and whether or not he had upset Grissom.

The Vegas supervisor returned his steely eyes to Stetler and nodded toward interview. Rick inhaled and smiled artificially before he led the way. Lab personnel shrunk back from Grissom and Stetler as they strode past, wary yet curious of the two men.

The appearance of Horatio at the other end of the hall only heightened their intrigue. No one knew for certain what had happened to the Lieutenant and rumours were circulating like vultures.

Kyle bumped into his father exiting the elevator and was drawn into a welcome hug. Horatio ruffled the golden hair on his son's head and held him close. He felt that Kyle needed the contact as much as he did. When they parted, Horatio shook his head at Kyle's questions and motioned him toward the elevator.

After the doors had shut, he turned to scrutinize the lab and raised an eyebrow at all of the people standing in the hallway, gawking at him. They filed out of the hallway like ants, quickly and attentively. Horatio smirked and walked toward the group of people who hadn't left the hall, his team.

They all looked seriously at him but none spoke. It wasn't the way things were done when it came to Horatio and his personal business, he had to speak to you about it. He could see the reaction to his bruised eye, only somewhat obscured by his sunglasses and knew they were worried. "I know..." he slipped off his sunglasses and Natalia brought a hand to her mouth. The bruise extended down his cheek but was darkest just beneath his slightly swollen eye. "I know you all need to know what went on and I have every intention of telling you. Just not right now." He briefly met each of their eyes, reassuring. "We have a killer out there and his next victim is running out of time. I need you all to focus on that right now, okay?"

"Ryan and Natalia are heading out to do perimeter on the club. Eric and I were planning on interviewing Mark Tremblant again, see if we can figure out where he made the exchange. DNA is already running on the harness." Calleigh's face remained serious even in the face of Horatio's pleased smile. She had taken charge in his brief absence, regardless of the rumours and he loved her for it.

He nodded and walked from them, not looking back even though he felt their eyes following him. His team was solid though, and right then, he needed to deal with a few other things. He had been witness to most of the stand off between Stetler and Grissom and could guess what it had been about. It was easy for him to see that Grissom was becoming more and more attached to Kyle. The thought made Horatio feel very peaceful, a bright spot in the blackness that had hung over the last few days.

So it bothered him a great deal that Stetler was now about to accost his lover.

As he strode to interview, Horatio had every intention of interrupting Stetler but found his gaze drawn to the two men in separate rooms next to one another. There was nothing about their faces that caused the memory to surface, it was the deep red of the one man's shirt. The flash of that colour, that he remembered from last night and nothing more. The feel of Grissom's hand in his own and then that colour.

Horatio narrowed his eyes and went to stand outside of the two rooms, looking them over. His hand went to the door that enclosed, not the man in the red shirt, but his friend with the bandaged face. The police report was impeccable thanks to Grissom. Horatio knew what had happened despite Grissom's attempt to shield him from it. And the man who had hit him didn't bother Horatio half as much as the man who now sat in front of him.

Darren Carmichael had his hands cuffed in front of him and cast furtive looks at Horatio. Standing casually with his hands on hips, Horatio noted how Darren was sweating.

"My guess...is that you weren't planning on assaulting a police officer last night." The gravel of his tone was accentuated by the concussion, he sounded rough but alert. He was no less intimidating than normal and Darren did not respond. His own bruised eyes darted around the room.

Horatio moved to stand next Darren who did not look at him, even as the red head leaned down with his face an inch from Darren's. "You laid hands on my son-"

"Get away from me, faggot," Darren spat, the quiver in his voice betraying his lack of confidence.

Horatio gave him a sinister smile, his eyes glinting. He reached a hand around Darren's face and viciously forced his head back with his palm on the man's bandaged nose. Darren cried out but didn't struggle, his bravado from the night prior evaporating.

"A faggot...broke your nose, Darren," Horatio's voice grated close to his ear, "and I'm gonna do you a favour... and make sure your brief stay in jail is made very pleasant by informing your cell mate of that fact." He released Darren and clenched his fist, disgusted. He looked down at Darren who was bent double in pain before his gaze rose to his friend.

There was only composure and the smallest spark of anger in Horatio's eyes as he looked at the man who had attacked him. Horatio did not give him the pleasure of anything else.

He walked form the room and did not look back at either man.

####

"Who was present when the altercation happened?"

Grissom sat with his fingers laced on the table in front of him, his face unreadable except for the slightest trace of anger. "Lieutenant Horatio Caine, his son Kyle Harmon and myself."

Leaning over a file while he jotted notes, Stetler looked briefly up at Grissom as he asked each question. "What were you doing on Meridian Avenue?"

"Looking for a place to have dinner." Grissom tried to keep any other emotion from clouding his thoughts. Recounting the details of the otherwise ordinary night made him feel dejected. The details he would not say were that he had been strolling with his lover and his son, talking about basketball. That was all. How was it that it had ended this way?

"What are you doing in Miami?" Stetler looked over Grissom more acutely with this question and Grissom saw him do it.

"I race cockroaches. There's a series of 'roach races going on this week." He didn't hesitate in responding, knowing that was what Stetler was looking for.

The IAB agent gradually looked up from his notes where he had just written Grissom's response. "Are you serious?"

"I've gotten a podium finish in nine events so far." Grissom faked looking pleased about this. It was true, it just wasn't as important to him as he needed it to appear to be.

Clearing his throat as a flash of disbelief crossed his face, Stelter continued. "You said in your statement that both men just...attacked the three of you. There was no indication that they were about to be violent, you didn't do anything to provoke them..."

Not letting his eyes move in a tell-tale fashion, Grissom thought about the word that had been shouted before they were set upon. He hadn't said anything about it because he knew the law didn't care. The men who attacked them would be punished for assaulting a police officer, not prosecuted for the hate crime they had committed. As much as it caused bile to rise in his throat, Grissom had chosen to keep this detail from the report to spare Horatio. His lover was a private man and his assault would be all over his work place. If the fact that they had been attacked for being two men holding hands wouldn't strengthen the case, Grissom wasn't going to put that information into the hands of people Horatio might not want to have it.

Even as it was killing him.

"I stated in my report that I have no idea what instigated the confrontation."

Stetler rolled his shoulders and slipped a sheet of paper from under his file, sliding it infront of Grissom. It was the hospital sign in sheet. "You listed your relationship to Lieutenant Caine as his 'partner'. Would you care to elaborate on that?"

A snarl of a smile twisted the corner of Grissom's mouth. He stood, pushing his chair back as he slipped a pen from his coat. "I've been very clear in my report," he jotted down his phone number on a piece of paper and caught a glimpse of Horatio in the window when he looked back up to Stetler. "If you have any other _pertinent _questions, be sure and give me a call."

Without a backward glance, he left the room and walked to his lover, eyes scanning him.

"You shouldn't be here, you should be at the hospital," Grissom whispered fiercely, searching Horatio's eyes.

He didn't look away from his lover. "Neither of us should be here. None of this should have had the chance to happen and I'm sorry." His pose was characteristic for him, hands on his hips, leaning in slightly sideways.

They stood only an inch apart, their conversation clearly intimate and audible only to them.

Horatio's apology was written in his expression as well. "You know I have to work this case, Gil," he whispered.

Grissom shook his head as he looked to the ground, screwing up his face with all the emotion he was feeling that there was no room to express.

"Gil, this'll be all right-"

"All right?" Grissom looked up in disbelief at Horatio. "Which part? Where you get your head split open by some guy calling you a faggot? Or the part where Kyle wonders why he froze up when he witnessed that? None of this, _none of this_ is all right." He took a step back and looked at the floor again, his breathing uneven. His thumbs touched each finger tip of their respective hand reflexively, an exercise his father had taught him to improve his dexterity.

Horatio wanted to simply scoop him up and take him home, where they should have been this whole time. He could see the weight of what Grissom was feeling on his lover's face, in his stance. And he wanted to shoulder it in his place.

Instead he stepped toward him, closing the distance once more, and caught Grissom's right hand in his own. The gesture was hidden from prying eyes by their proximity and Horatio stroked the swollen knuckles. Eventually Grissom looked up at him, his face tired.

"We can do this. We always find a way," he squeezed Grissom's hand ever so gently, "it's what we do."

They stood in that space for a few moments, oblivious of the lab around them. Grissom eventually shook his head, squeezing Horatio's hand in turn before letting it slip from his.

"When this case is done, we need to talk," he said evenly, shutting down his emotions.

Horatio had seen him do this many times but it still astounded him. Grissom effectively stopped being the man he loved when he did this, becoming instead machinelike and cold. It was, however, basically what Horatio was asking from him.

"I promise."

Casting a confident smile over his shoulder for Stetler's benefit, Horatio began walking toward the elevator as Grissom fell in step with him.

"I have an idea," Grissom said as the doors opened.

Horatio raised an eyebrow at him from behind the sunglasses he had just slipped on.

"We're off to the races."

Both men stepped into the elevator and faced forward again, Horatio leaning against the back of it with his arms crossed and chuckling softly. Grissom slipped his hands into his pockets and stared at the closing doors, thinking about bugs, fireflies to be exact.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the delay and thanks for all the comments folks. Enjoy.

####

The Lieutenant made an odd companion for his lover as they strolled the isles of the convention centre in Fort Lauderdale. Grissom spoke with no less than three dozen people with various bug fascinations at the 'roach race. He paid no attention to Horatio until he found what he was looking for.

"This is it, this is how we get our warrant," he said to Horatio later in the Hummer. His acquaintance the 'firefly guy' was selling at the races and he had sold to Mark Tremblant.

Horatio cast quick glances his lover's way and saw how his face was lit up. As much of a trial as the past few days had been, this was something they shared, this love of the chase.

####

"I hate people who waste my time, Mark, especially when lives are at stake." Horatio glared at the thin man, causing him to tremble again. He and Grissom had stepped into the hitherto fruitless interview with Calleigh and Eric.

Grissom placed a picture of the fireflies infront of Mark who looked at them, perplexed, before looking up at Grissom. "Bugs?"

"You purchased this particular type of firefly at the Maimi insect show last week. We've found traces of these 'bugs' on all of our victims." Grissom's voice was level, his eyes sweeping over Mark in a calculating way.

"Oh, Jesus Christ! How many people buy bugs at that show?" Panicky and tense, he looked around at the unsympathetic faces.

"None of those people were found wearing a personal item of one of the victim's." Horatio said with forced patience, feeling slightly dizzy.

"They weren't even for me! All right? I bought them to use on a friend, there, are you happy?" He crossed his arms and looked at the floor.

"What's his name?" Eric asked, rising to his feet.

"Screw you guys, go get your warrant if you want to know who she is." Mark knew he had said too much but was tired of dealing with the police.

"She?" Grissom caught this and raised a brow, looking to Horatio

####

"A woman would not have been able to subdue the victims without drugs and tox was negative for each of them," Horatio reasoned with Grissom. They were on the road again.

"Not necessarily true," Grissom countered, "we have no tangible evidence that a man was involved in any of these crimes, no semen, no epithelials. In fact, the unknown DNA contribution on the corset was female."

"So it was a woman that knocked you out then?" Horatio drove with one hand while his other rested on the gear shift, fiddling with the seams in the plastic.

Grissom shrugged. "Plenty of women can hit. Hard. I'm not ashamed to admit I may have been knocked out by a woman."

Looking at Grissom as long as was safe while driving, he said "no, you're not are you." He spoke again after a minute, "I read the report."

Shaking his head, Grissom kept his own sunglass-shaded eyes directed out his window. "I'm not ready to talk about this right now."

Horatio nodded to himself and hesitated before moving his hand from the shift stick to his lover's arm. He slid from Grissom's forearm to his hand, squeezing when their fingers wove together. Neither man said anything and Grissom did not pull away.

####

Horatio and Grissom were joined by Natalia and Wolfe as they walked up to Amelia Parker's front door. The two less senior CSIs were pulled from Infinite Possibilities after Grissom had gotten this address from Thomas March.

Hand on his holstered weapon, Horatio knocked, looking side to side along the property. He wasn't phased when a man opened the door.

"Officers?" The man looked a little taken aback at the sight of four police officers on his front step, one of whom was not shy about showing his gun.

"We're looking for Amelia Parker. Who are you?" His gravely tone was direct as his eyes assessed the man from behind his sunglasses.

"I'm her boyfriend," he said uncertainly as Horatio took off his sunglasses and narrowed his eyes.

He wasn't focused on the man's face, but on his hand. "What's your name?" The sixth sense for knowing when someone was about to run was one that Horatio had gained back in New York. He raised a hand to stop the door from slamming as the man shoved it closed before dashing down the hall. Opening the door and drawing his weapon in one fluid motion, before the other CSI's quite knew what had happened, he fired a single shot.

Their new suspect dropped mid run, clutching his knee and crying out in pain. Horatio led the group, all with guns drawn, into the house. He knelt next to the injured man and placed the barrel of his gun an inch from his face. "Now...I asked you what your name was."

####

Feeling relieved, elated even, Horatio stood behind Grissom who sat facing their suspect.

"Assault, theft, murder. You've been busy, Matt."

Grissom caught the pleasure in his lover's voice and found it ever so distracting.

Matthew Glass didn't look particularly perturbed. He had yet to say anything to them in fact. He made no attempt to hide the cut on his knuckles that had given them access to his DNA, the same DNA they had found in Grissom's teeth.

"We've matched trace found on all of your victims to the insects your girlfriend is particularly fond of using in her S & M sessions. Not a lot of demand in the area for _Luciola Cruciata_." Grissom passed a photo of the insects found at the Parker residence across the table. He felt a little of the powerlessness he had felt these last few days ebbing now that this animal was finally found.

He wasn't surprised by Matt's calm attitude. Any dominant that would kill for the pleasure of their submissive would naturally be calm and cold under any circumstances. He rose when Matt asked for his lawyer and turned to Horatio. Horatio wanted more from this, more of a reason, something to help him understand better why these women had died. Grissom caught his eye and held it a moment before motioning toward the door with a nod of his head. They had done it, finished the case and earned their reprieve.

Amelia Parker was in the hall, collapsing in tears as her boyfriend was lead away. Horatio looked to the floor, feeling tired and sore. He and Grissom were joined by his team, all looking pleased. Eric was the only one slightly subdued, his looks to Horatio not so subtle.

"I'm thinking celebratory lunch, who's in?" Natalia suggested, thinking the case had been long and they all deserved to revel in it's closure.

No one answered at first, looking instead to Horatio. He smiled around at them and nodded his head, looking at Grissom briefly. "I think...I think that's a good idea."

####

Grissom and Natalia were at the counter of the hole in the wall restaurant Eric had suggested, ordering their food. The place was small, served coffee whether you asked for it or not and always kept the deep fryer on. Everything on the menu was comfort food to someone.

Conversation between Wolfe, Calleigh, Eric and Horatio was a little strained, everyone really wanting to talk about what had happened to Horatio but avoiding it. It was possible that Wolfe just hadn't been sleeping enough with the case, working too long. Whatever the reason, his comedic reflex triggered and he turned to Horatio.

"H, do you wanna know what these three were pulling my leg with yesterday?" Ryan was smiling and Horatio favoured him with one in kind as Eric and Calleigh tensed.

"They getting you with the rookie pranks again, Wolfe? You're a little seasoned to be falling for those still."

All Eric and Calleigh could see in their friend's face was the care he had for them all, his sense of pride in them. There was no way for them to shut Ryan up and no way to know how Horatio might react.

"Nah, nothing like that." He leaned in, "they're trying to tell me that you and Grissom...well, that you're a little light in the loafers, if you know what I mean." A grin split his face as he leaned back and crossed his arms.

Wolfe hadn't known Horatio as long as Calleigh and Eric. He missed how subtly the smile faded from Horatio's face.

Grissom and Natalia returned into the silence that proceeded Wolfe's ill-placed comment. Placing a hand on Horatio's shoulder and leaning in intimately, Grissom spoke to Horatio. "I got you what they claim is soup so you don't have to chew, should be easier on your head."

Horatio looked to his side but didn't quite meet Grissom's eye.

Wolfe saw the way Grissom looked at Horatio, the way his hand was just a little too close to the nape of Horatio's neck for it's placement to be merely friendly. His face drained of colour.

Horatio regarded his CSI's with a look as close to disappointment as they had ever seen.

Then he looked to his side again, speaking to Grissom. "I think...I think you may have waisted your money, I'm sorry." He slipped off of the stool he had been sitting on and looked around the table once more. "I'm suddenly...very unimpressed with the company."

Baffled, Grissom watched Horatio walk out of the restaurant before turning back to the table. "What was that?"

Eric hit Wolfe in the arm, hard. "Yeah, what the hell was that?" He was angry at Wolfe, almost angrier than he had ever been with the oft infuriating CSI.

"What? I thought you were joking about him!" He tried to explain, looking to his co-workers. There was no sympathy for him in their faces, only a dawning horror at what their friend had just said to Horatio. Of all people.

"What did you say to him?" Grissom wasn't stunned, he was furious.

"I..."Ryan met the hard grey of Grissom's eyes and faltered. "I may have said something about him being...light in the loafers."

Grissom's face contorted in disbelief. He shared his intimidating gaze with the whole table, picking up on the fact that they all felt complicit regardless of who had spoken. "You wanna know how he got that black eye? Someone called him a faggot before they laid him out...in front of his son, because we were holding hands." Grissom raised a hand to punctuate his next sentence but paused, mouth open for a second, before dropping it and turning from the table in disgust.

The four CSI's watched him go, all stunned by what had just transpired. Eric had the presence of mind to hit Ryan again but no one spoke. They were shocked by the knowledge of how Horatio had been injured.

####

Grissom walked slowly out to where Horatio stood, hands on hips, face raised to the sun. He had to smile to himself at how much self confidence his lover possessed. At times he seemed unshakeable, even when Grissom knew he felt otherwise.

"I don't know why it bothers me so much." Horatio's gravel was low, a little sad.

"Because it shouldn't matter...and it does, to some." Grissom postulated.

Horatio looked down to his lover, his eyes visible behind his sunglasses by virtue of the sun shining behind him. Locks of his hair shifted in the faint breeze. "I'm not ashamed of you."

Grissom gave him a small smile. "I know."

"If I ever seem...like I'm keeping it...like I'm..." He struggled. There was a never a relationship before Grissom in which he laboured so much to convey what he thought. Part of this, he was now realising, had to do with how little space the world made for them. The possibility that two men could be that close only made outside eyes curious about the surface details, effectively placing a target on their backs.

"You're professional and you're private and don't think for once second that I don't understand that about you." Grissom looked at Horatio with unabashed love and affection. What he truly wanted to do in that instant was make love to this man, to feel as close to him as he could get.

He settled for the warm, grateful smile Horatio gave him. They were getting lost in one another's eyes, both feeling a little addled from their injuries and a lack of sleep, when Grissom's phone rang.

Normally, he wouldn't have answered a number he didn't know but he found himself hitting 'send' anyway. His thoughts ran like molasses, in time to the slow throb of his bruised jaw.

The woman was calling from Mountain View Hospital.

Horatio watched as Grissom's face became expressionless and he let the phone drop a little from his ear, his eyes searching the pavement in front of him. He brought the receiver back to his lips tentatively, mouthing the beginnings of words as he tried to speak.

"I'm in Miami...is she going to...will I have time?"

Horatio leaned in, trying to discern the voice on the phone as disquiet crept up on him. Even in situations where his team was endangered, Grissom functioned with inhuman focus. There were few words exchanged with the person on the other end of the phone before Grissom hung up, his gaze still wavering back and forth.

"Gil?" Horatio laid his palm on Grissom's shoulder, stepped closer to him.

The Vegas supervisor looked up at him uncertainly. "My mother's in the hospital. I need to go."


End file.
